


In my honey and in my milk

by Anneofnyc



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, matt needs all the hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneofnyc/pseuds/Anneofnyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt got low sometimes. Really low. It happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bitter Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Major depression. Self harm which may be a little graphic. 
> 
> This is my first fic in the fandom. And first fic in years.  
> It's been so long that I'm practically a fanfic virgin. Be gentle please. Matt and Foggy are in a platonic relationship. If you want to read it like pre-slash, knock yourself out!

Foggy had just taken the first tentative sip of his coffee, still scalding hot at that point, when his phone rang. Matt. He gulped down hurriedly to answer.

“Matt, buddy we really needed you there. It was so ugh! You wouldn’t believe how… Matt?” He frowned when he was allowed to ramble on for that long.  
“Hey Foggy.”  
That sounded totally off. Foggy slowed down, concerned.  
“Hey. Everything okay?”  
“Uh. Yeah I… I don’t think so.”  
“Are you in your apartment?” He spotted an oncoming cab and started to flag it down.  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay. Are you safe right now? Is this- is this something that we may need Claire for?”  
“No. I’m not hurt Foggy.”  
Foggy quickly gave the address and climbed into the cab.  
“Matt, you still with me?”  
“Hmmm.”  
“Okay I’m on my way, Matt. Just wait for me. I’ll be there.”

 

 

Matt Murdock remembered kneeling in the Church. The floor freezing and hard under his knees. A sense of awe and reverence. May be even fear. The world not really existing beyond the floor, smell of candles and the hum of prayer. The cold was a reminder. A comfort.

Matt shivered as the cold tiles nipped at his toes. There were no candles and no prayer. There was just a mild sting. Even though the cuts were deep enough to hurt more. Thighs had more subcutaneous fat, so it bled comparatively less than say the thin skin of the forearm. Also, and more importantly, they were a lot easier to hide.  


He touched the end of one cut, led the welling blood to trickle out in a hot trail down his thighs. Everything felt hushed, but not as muted as before when he was cutting into his own flesh. Until the faintest feelings of panic shook his hands. And he had to call out to his best friend, scared.  


Not panicking yet. But he could feel it coming. It could be averted for a while though.  
One more cut. Left thigh. Below the last cut of the closest column. There were two other parallel columns. Thirty cuts each equally spaced. This one just had nine.  
He carefully put his right thumb to mark the area and to keep the skin taut as he slowly places the tip of the blade on his skin. Exhales. Then pulls the blade towards himself, a sharp pain and an immediate dulling of every other sense.  
It takes a few seconds for the smell of blood grow strong. He repeats the process three more times. Each slightly deeper than the last. A haze falls over his mind. Peace. Quiet. The lovely sting and the comforting warmth.  


“Oh Matt!” Foggy’s soft exclamation startles him badly. The haze had cut off most of his distant perceptions along with his feelings. Suddenly unsure how to behave around his friend, he keeps his face directed forwards.  
He hears Foggy slowly come into the bathroom and squat in front of the toilet he was sitting on. Foggy’s warm hand on his knee. A point of contrast. A breach in his bubble of calm.  
The buzz was gone. Panic and horror rushed back with a cacophony of sounds of the world around him. He feels his hands start to shake.  


“Foggy.”  
His voice was hoarse and cracked.  
“Woah buddy… careful there.” Foggy’s hand left his knee and were on his hand holding the blade.  
“You’re messing up your hand, Matt. Matt let it go. Matt.” His voice was insistent and steady. But his heart rate was 108 bpm and he was sweating.  
Matt relaxed his hand and realized he’d clenched his hands in panic and the blade had dug in in some places. But the cuts were shallow.  
Foggy took the blade and threw it in the sink. Returned his hand on his knee.

Matt swallowed as the feeling of terror inside him grew. Engulfing all of him gradually like a ball of fire within. He felt vulnerable. Sat in the bathroom, in his underwear, cutting himself like a pathetic loser in front of Foggy. He’d seen. Matt Murdock at his most pitiable state. The coward who could never cope. Never deal with his issues like a normal person. How all his solutions involved blood and pain. Violence and darkness. Jesus, he must look insane. Foggy hadn’t signed up for this madness. _I only ever needed my friend._

He clasped his hands, hovering between his knees. Hesitant to touch the cut up skin.  
“I’m going to clean you up. It might sting a bit okay?”  
He felt cool saline swabs gently cleaning his thighs and then his palm. His breathing started to feel a little tight. He couldn’t control the tremble that that now took over his lower body too. 

A gentle hand settled on his sternum. Firm and warm.  
“I’m just gonna wrap a bandage around these okay? That’s all I’m going to do and then we’ll take this somewhere warmer. Sound alright?”  
Matt’s nod was exaggerated, his muscles feeling hypertonic and not quite under his control.  


His friend’s kind ministration was making him feel ashamed. Undeserving. All he’d given were lies, half truths and betrayal. While Foggy had given him everything. A life. Laughter. Touch. Dreams. Family. And Matt goes and turns into this whiny little bitch. Snivelling and hiding in a bathroom. Cutting himself like he was still an over wrought dramatic adolescent.  
How was he still doing this? He was 28. He should have gotten over this by now, right?  


“Come on.” A gentle tug by his elbow. He gets up and follows Foggy into the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of personal issues here because no superhero has resonated more with me than Daredevil. Hence, the return from fanfic exile, yay! Haven't rated it Mature yet... please tell me if you think it needs to be.
> 
> I'm not a native English speaker and this is unbeta-ed. Any help and suggestions are appreciated and welcome.


	2. The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title btw is from the amazing song 'Sorrow' By The National. 
> 
> A little more Foggy and Karen in this one. Enjoy!

Foggy blinked as a hot Chai Latte and an oatmeal cookie is placed in front of him.  
“Oh god, thank you! You're an angel, Karen. Like literally.”

Karen smirked and leaned against his desk.  
“Tough night?”  


That dropped the amusement off his face real fast.  
“You could say that” he smiles wanly.  
“Is Matt not coming again?” she frowns.  
Foggy takes a languid sip before answering, “Nope, he is taking the day off.”  
Karen immediately stiffens.  
“Another fall down the stairs? Or did he walk into a post?"

Foggy fakes a laugh to cover his flinch, “Ha! No, nothing of that sort. Just- just regular stuff. Dude runs himself down. Not sleeping or eating enough…”  
Well, it was completely honest, leaving out some details. Foggy hated lying to Karen.

“He did seem tired and off this whole week.” She nods, voice sincere and low now.

Foggy keeps himself from frowning at that. He’d noticed ‘tired’, but not ‘off’. Some friend he’s been.  
It’s not that they weren’t doing well. Considering the massive hit their friendship had taken not too long ago, they were doing better than he’d hoped for.  
But dynamics had shifted. Assumptions were being re-examined. Baselines were being re-established. They were learning and adjusting to a new reality. It was just unfortunate that it had to coincide with Matt’s spiral into depression. Or was it because of it? He couldn’t decide. Probably both.

He’d witnessed matt’s depression before. A really severe episode in their freshman year. And quite a few times which could have been easily confused with his melancholic and broody personality. Matt could brood like no one’s business.

But he’d never cut himself before. Went crazy at the gym maybe, sure. But not deliberate self harm. Or was that something Foggy missed too? Matt’s affinity towards secrecy and suppression was something Foggy no longer underestimated.

“He’s gonna be fine, Karen. You’ll see. Just needs to take it easy. And I just... we just have to be there I guess. That’s all.”  
Karen nodded, looking a little surprised but mostly steadfast. 

“Enjoy your coffee.”  
Foggy smiled back. Karen had a nice sunny smile. In a weird contrast to her usual old soul persona. It was good to have her around. Sometimes he felt so heavy and awkward carrying around Matt’s secrets and issues on his own. It felt good to share his concern with her, if not the facts.

The night before had been just… sad. And eerily quiet. Matt had looked so horrified and traumatised, Foggy hadn’t had the heart to push him.

 

 

“Think you can sleep?”  
Matt nodded numbly into his half empty mug of soup, cradled in his lap. 

Foggy sipped at his own mug, grimacing a little. He wasn’t a fan of tomatoes. But there had been a lone can of tomato soup In Matt’s kitchen and Foggy had compromised to his aching stomach. Matt still sucked at keeping himself well fed. He remembered to his embarrassment, almost imitating his mother to make sure Matt ate all meals in college.  


Foggy had snorted and taken out the can. Some things never change. And what an odd comfort that was in this mess.

“Feeling any better?”  
Matt took a few seconds. Then did a weird cross between a half-hearted nod and a shrug. All without looking up. Which, fair enough, not like Foggy could answer that himself. His mind had literally shutdown after getting Matt out of the bathroom half an hour ago.  


Bundled him up in warm clothes on the couch. Made tea. Soup. All pretty much on auto.

Matt still looked terrible. Pale faced and dark eyed. The trembling had ceased but still feeling shaky going by how he was clutching at his mug with both hands.  
He stood up after making a valiant attempt at finishing the soup and then giving up. He looked nervous now.  


“I guess I’ll try to sleep. You can um-stay…or leave. It’s okay. I mean thank you for… uh but I’ll just sleep now.”  
“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll just hang around a while if you don’t mind. There’s nothing much I can do in the office today anyway. Karen can handle it for now.”  


“Okay”. Matt acquiesced, frowning.

 

Foggy stayed the rest of the day. Cleaned up the bathroom. Disposed the used blade. Stopped himself from searching and confiscating all sharp stabby things from Matt’s apartment. He had to trust Matt right now and not freak out.

Matt _had_ promised that time in college that if he ever felt suicidal, he’d tell Foggy or his priest.  
Matt had reached out this time. That had to mean something. And Foggy was gonna take that as a good sign- which, fuck, was an awful thing to think about a person hurting themselves- and let Matt take the lead. He’d learnt that lesson first hand in college. You couldn’t force a cure on depression. Just didn’t work like that.

He’d cleared up some work with Karen on the phone. Played games on his phone. Keeping the peppy ‘dumb ways to die’ muted for the sleeping man. Refusing to see the irony.

Matt had slept till late evening. Had sat on the couch, bleary and blank eyed after stumbling out of his bed. Ate the take out Foggy ordered and went to back to bed with a bathroom detour.

He’d slept soundly through the night, amazingly enough. Foggy knew because _he_ didn’t. Mind whirring and thoughts running relentlessly. And how unfair was it that by the time he started to feel drowsy, the sun was up and so was Matt.  


He made coffee and eggs for Foggy though. He was moving a little more energetically but still not talking. Had sat on the couch, face blank, worrying his bandaged palm once he was done eating. 

He’d assured Foggy that he was okay. Which was such a huge lie that _holy shit_! But Foggy believed him when he said he didn't have to urge to hurt himself. Not currently anyway.  


Foggy had initiated a brief one sided hug before leaving, needing the comfort more for himself than for his friend. There were no guarantees but Matt was trying and he wanted him to know that he knew that. Or something like that. He was exhausted. 

All he wanted to do was go home for a shower and a change before he had to turn up for work. And maybe the work will keep his mind occupied. Keep him from obsessing about every single detail... trying to figure out when things started to go wrong. And why bad things happened to good people. 

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to sit on this for another day. Prune and sculpt it. But I got too nervous and just posted it. Eeek? Dobby is a bad bad elf :( 
> 
> And thank you everyone who have read, and left comments and kudos. Very. Very much appreciated.


	3. We have normality

Matt could hear Karen in the office, using the Braille printer. No sign of Foggy. 

He ran a hand down his cheeks and over his hair. He’d showered and shaved. Wore a freshly pressed suit. And yet he still felt out of place and insecure. His moment of weakness in the bathroom dogged him even now.

He hoped he had minimal interaction with people, his friends slash colleagues included. Or actually, it would probably be better if everyone behaved normally. Honestly? He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. 

“Morning.” Karen sounded cheerful. Jarring but usual for her.  
“Morning Karen.”  
He didn’t try to smile, pretty sure the outcome would look horrendous with how tight everything felt inside.  
“I have the depositions transcript on your desk.”  
“Oh thanks. Markus Dennis?”  
“Ahan.”

Then he sat in his room. Touching the desk. Shifting in his chair. Wondering how a few days inside his head made everything familiar feel different. He took a deep breath and switched on his computer. He had to try. Take the first step and the step after that. And hope that he’d find ground every time.

 

Foggy came just a couple of minutes later. Not as cheerful sounding as Karen but not tensed or worried either. Good. He could handle this.

They worked quietly till he could hear Foggy’s stomach grumbling. Not his super hearing, Karen heard it too. She went out to get lunch for everyone, laughing. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever have to go hungry after college man. I’m telling you, wrong career choices.” Foggy came into his room.

“Not the butcher story again, Foggy. Let it go.” Matt didn’t actually say anything of that out loud. Just… just not today. Not yet.

Foggy slumped down the chair opposite Matt.  
“You’re looking good. I wasn’t sure if you’d come. I’m happy you did though.”  
“Yeah, I thought maybe it’d keep me from… thinking things.”  
“That’s the idea. Hey, uh… you mind if I ask you some things?”

Well he couldn’t say he this was unexpected. And besides he’d decided that he’d actually try to cope with the situation so talking about it was probably the first step.  
“Go ahead.”  
“How are you feeling? Better? Or are you doing the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ strategy? I’m asking because I know you how stubborn you are so just be honest please.”

Matt had lain awake in his bed for an hour before he could get up this morning. Had shaved and stood motionless at the sink for atleast 15 minutes. Had to fend a mild panic attack when he’d opened the door to get out. But he was here wasn’t he?

“Better. I think. But not-not out of um…it.”  
“Okay. And something else. The uh…in the bathroom. Has that happened before? Or was it the first time?”  
Matt shook his head, “Not the first time.”  
Foggy slumped at that. A stutter in his breath.  
“You never said. In college.”  
“Didn’t happen in college. When I was 17… 18 I think.”  
“In the orphanage? And nobody knew?” Foggy abandoned all pretence of calm at this point.

“Not about the specifics, no. There was a counsellor. Mostly because I was blind and an orphan.”  
Matt remembered very little about the tall thin woman. She’d been nice enough. She’d asked questions. Told her own stories. Matt hadn’t reciprocated much.

“Do you think you might do it again?” Foggy’s voice was back to its neutral warm tone, mostly.  
“I don’t know. I mean I don’t want to. But it’s not something I can really anticipate so.”  
“That’s alright. It’s just I know you get hurt worse during your nightly gigs. But this is… I’m just worried Matt.”

Matt ducked his head, feeling a blush creep up, embarrassed “I know. I’m sorry.”  
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. I was thinking if you wanted to talk with someone? Professional I mean.”

“I can’t Foggy. Not right now.” He was suddenly blinking back tears.  
“Hey I don’t mean it has to be today or anything. But eventually. It helped right? Our first year? And I’m here and you could tell me when you’re ready. And we could set an appointment. Whenever. Just keep it in mind yeah?”

His nose was feeling runny. He didn’t want to sniffle and let his friend know just how close to tears he really was. Weird thing to be worried about after all that they’ve been through. But it was always the littlest things, wasn’t it?

Thankfully Foggy decided to move on to other topics, perhaps sensing that Matt had just about reached his limits.  
By the time Karen came back with food, he had composed himself. It felt nice. Eating together. The light banter. He even joined in and felt happy when it felt natural. Ordinary. 

He smiled when Foggy eventually did recount his butcher story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes it's a Hitchhiker's quote, you're welcome.
> 
> It's a short one, but the next one will be longer. Consistency and continuity are hard!
> 
> Thank you again for reading, the kudos and the comments. Comments specially are really helpful and encouraging so please do leave one if you are enjoying this or have any thoughts.


	4. Taste of Ink

“How will you work on my case? I mean you gotta look through evidence and pictures and whatnot. Like do you pay someone else to do that for you? I’m sorry…I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything but… I mean they allow you to do all the stuff right?”

Karen cringed, pressing her thumbs further into her eyeballs. 

The whole day had been a general disaster of sorts. Two of their current cases were hitting dead ends and red tape. And now they had a client who smelled like a chain smoker and was dishing out ableist comments in spades. 

She had a headache. She’d tried to give the asshole a piece of her mind but Matt had politely pushed her out before she could get to it. Matt had the uncanny ability to know beforehand that she was about to say something really angry. And really rude. It was usually on Matt’s behalf to some scum licking ableist douchebag.

“Karen, you okay there?”  
She opens her eyes, mid-mental diatribe to find Matt standing in front of her and the stinking dickbag exiting the office. Damn Matt and his weird intuition.

“How do you tolerate people like that? Ugh.”  
“He wasn’t that bad.” Wrinkling his nose as if the smell was the most offensive bit.  


“He totally was Matt. Anyway, here are the forms you wanted.” She tapped on a bundle of papers.  
“Thank you Karen.”  
“Hey, we’re done for today right. And it’s still early… I was thinking we could um… hang out a bit?”

Karen tried her best to make it sound casual. Because the truth is she really wanted Matt to spend more time with them. He had come back to work looking fragile and distant. He’d relaxed since then. But he still had moments when he got distracted. Sometimes a sad wounded look in his eyes.

“Oh.I-I… thought I’ll get these scanned and ready tonight.” Matt looked taken aback. 

“Please Matt. I’ll come early tomorrow morning and have them prepped for you. Just a drink. We’ll wind up early. I mean it’s okay if you’d really rather not. But I think it will be nice. And fun.”  


Matt smiled a little. “Are you pouting?”  
Karen grinned, dropping the puppy eyed look.  
“Did it work?”  
“I can’t actually know that Karen. I can’t see you know.” Matt said with mock seriousness.  
“So it worked! Come on then, I’ve already texted Foggy. He should be on his way.”

Matt went to get his coat, shaking his head in amusement.

 

They reach the bar before Foggy. And with each minute, Matt regretted his decision more and more.

While the past week at the office had been vaguely normal and he’d managed dealing with other people quite well too… he felt uneasy at the bar. The bar full of the weekend crowd.

He really wanted to just leave and not go through the whole thing. But he couldn’t leave poor Karen at this point. He had given them too many reasons to worry over him and they all deserved a distraction. He decided to just grin and bear it. Make an excuse and turn in early if the other two seemed to want to stay for long. Yeah, that was the plan.

His discomfort was apparent to Karen perhaps. She kept a steady flow of funny, odd stories of her home, family. Safe, quaint and distant memories that kept Matt from focusing on the din and general chaos of the bar.

 

Foggy came ten minutes later. Looking exhausted. He hauled himself to a seat and collapsed with a dramatic groan.

Matt wrinkled his nose immediately. “Have you been cheating on Josie, Foggy?”  
“Ugh, yeah. I thought you’d been working.” Karen sniffed at him.  
“Some dude spilled his fucking beer on me when I was coming in.” he grumbled, motioning at Josie for a drink.  
“Hell of a day.”

“Hell of a day.” Foggy agreed, “One thing." Foggy pointed dramatically, "Not one thing went right and now I want to get drunk because it’s my constitutional right.”  
“No shit.” Karen snorted.

Suddenly Matt’s determination to make it through a few drinks evaporated. The day had sucked. Terrible case involving terrible people doing terrible things. And all they could do was drink and whine about it. How could all that effort look so pointless in one second?

They got their drinks and continued talking about their bad day and the numerous ways it sucked. 

Matt sipped at his drink and immediately gagged. He hid the reaction with a cough. He was nauseated now. Although that sometimes happened with the first sip didn’t it. He tried to put in a remark here and there as the discussion moved to other topics.

He took a bigger sip next, trying to just press on. Big mistake. His insides rolled. He felt dejected at how his attempt at ‘fun’ was going.

A woman cackled somewhere. High pitched and somewhat villainous. That was another shot glass knocked off to the floor and breaking. Somebody stepped on the broken pieces. The smell of the spilt drink wafting over. Mixing with the smell of other drinks, perfumes, sweat, vomit, urine. _Fuck._

He loosened his tie and tried to relax. He was an idiot. He should have known he wasn’t in the right headspace to handle crowds, never mind a bar. He longed for his quiet apartment. His cool silk sheets. The emptiness. And the cold bathroom. Nope. He didn’t want to go to his apartment either. 

While crowds may assault his senses and threaten to overwhelm him, loneliness would most certainly drive him back to curling up and waiting to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to want to die. He didn’t want to be depressed any more. To sit quietly and feel insane with irrational grief.

He finished his drink in a gulp, swallowing every impulse to vomit.  


The conversation between his companions had lost its rhythm without the occasional input from him. They were still talking, but he could feel their focus, their concern from their occasional glances.

He tried to say something. What were they talking about? He opened his mouth anyway. Hoping to say something neutral. A non sequitur. Order another drink. Say goodbye and make his exit.

Nothing came out. Foggy suddenly turned towards him, his heart rate elevated. He’d noticed. Great.

He played with his empty glass in his hand, keeping his eyes averted. Hoping to pass it off as distracted and nonchalant. 

“I’m getting another drink.” Karen got up.  
“Yeah me too. Matt?”  
He shrugged.  
“Alright so…”

Matt lost thread of the conversation again. He just couldn’t focus any longer. The sounds and smells were triggering odd memories. Whiskey. Stitching up his dad. Blood. Cool skin and a dirty alley.

A drink was pressed against his knuckles. He picked it up and knocked it back at one go. The nausea didn’t come this time. He barely tasted the liquor.

It suddenly felt strange sitting there. Sharing a drink with his friends at a bar after work. His dad in an alley. What right. What right… 

He let his thought trail off. His mouth at once felt dry. His head hurt. Abruptly grief just bowled him over. Flooded his heart. He had to go. He had to move.  
“Excuse me a minute. I’ll just..” he motioned towards the end of the bar where the bathrooms were. Hoping it would suffice.

Because he couldn’t speak. He was choking. He stumbled lightly into a few people in his haste. Couldn’t pause to apologise.  
He reached the bathroom, gasping by now, his throat stinging. Locked himself up in the furthest stall. Leaned against the door and buried his face in his hands tightly before bursting into tears.

His chest felt full. As if it couldn’t all that misery any more. It ached. And he could do nothing but give way to its force.  
Inexplicably feeling as lonely as he did after his dad died. Being the weird religious blind kid in the orphanage. Feeling worthless and abandoned.

He frantically tried to remember something good. Something happy. Foggy. College. But _nothing_ stuck. As if his brain decided none of that mattered. His body convulsing with the force of his cries. He leaned away from the door, trying his best to muffle the noises in his hands. He hoped it would stop soon. Before Karen or Foggy found out.

He succeeded a little. The sobbing dwindled to a quiet sniffles. He took deep breaths as the tears were incessant.

This. This was his life. Hitting people. Breaking down in bathrooms.  


Fuck, he was back to full on crying again. He decided to let it for a minute, and then he would calm down. Wash his face. Tell Foggy he was tired and go home.  
He just had to stop first. Just breathe through it. Mind over matter.

 

“Matt? Dude you in there?”  
Foggy. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah.” He cursed himself as his voice came out thick and wobbly.  
“Can you come out please? Nobody’s here. Just come out okay?”

He fought the automatic childish reaction to refuse and keep hiding.  
“One sec.” he took a deep breath, scrubbing at his face with his hands. Here we go, he thought as he came out of the stall.

“Hey hey…come here. Jesus, come here.” His voice sounding heartbroken, Foggy drew him into a gentle hug.  
Matt was too far gone to think and just went along.

“You should have said something Matty! You always come to me Matt. Always.”  
Matt nodded against Foggy’s neck. The warm pressure and kind words drawing fresh tears.

“We’ll go home alright? We’ll go home. And you can tell me. Actually we don’t even have to talk. We can just do this. I mean not being weird in the bathroom. Just the hugging part. You know. Whatever you feel like. But you don’t do it alone buddy, okay? Just not alone please.”

Foggy’s voice had gone thick too by the end. His arms tightening around Matt. It took another minute before Matt felt steady enough to speak.  
“Karen?”

Foggy let him draw back. “She’s waiting for us. But I can tell her to go home and we could leave after that. She'll understand, she won't mind.”  
“No. that’s okay. We'll go together. It’s fine.”The tears had stopped and that awful ache had retreated to a corner for now.  
“You should wash your face though.”

Matt blew his nose and splashed cool water on his face. Hoping it would lessen the splotchy heat he could feel in his eyes and cheeks.  
“Come on.”

He let Foggy lead him back. Crowded bars were good for the fact that not too many would notice and stare at him.

Once they reached their table, Karen placed a cold glass of water on front of him.  
“Here, drink a little water Matt. You'll feel better.”  
He nodded his thanks. At least it unclogged the back of his throat and cooled his face.

 

Karen took the first cab out. She hugged Matt before leaving. Which wasn't unusual but it felt different somehow. It was comforting, the embarrassment and awkwardness notwithstanding.

Foggy asked Matt if he was okay staying over at his apartment. Matt agreed easily. He was beyond any decision making capabilities. Slightly numb. But he felt on the edge and could go back to being a sobbing mess with the littlest nudge. So he just let Foggy take the lead. He didn't trust himself to be alone right now. But more importantly he trusted Foggy more. It was a no brainer.

Foggy let him change into his softest old t-shirt and sweat pants once they reached his place. He sat on Foggy’s bed as he showered to get the beer off him.  
He came back with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies like the mother hen he was. Matt told him that. Foggy laughed and settled beside him, having his own milk and cookie dinner.

“Bess gave me these. I don't think she gave Brett any going by the face he was making.”  
“Sweet of her.”  
“She loves me.”

Matt had managed a smile at that. A small soft one that sort of made Foggy pause for a second. He liked this open trusting version of Matt. 

After finishing eating, he tucked Matt into his bed, who was looking drained of every bit of energy.  
“Wake me up if you need anything. Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight.” Matt snuggled in.

 

Foggy brought back blankets and cushions. Made his couch look very inviting and warm. He felt tired and he thought he would sleep but he couldn't quite get himself to lie down. A restlessness keeping his legs jittery and his eyes wide open. 

He opened his laptop to get some work done. Reading paragraphs of legalese was often his drug of choice when he couldn’t sleep in college. And it worked too well because he fell asleep sitting after an hour of reading. Jerking awake for no reason maybe half an hour later.

Actually no, he could hear Matt tossing and turning in his bed. There was one mildly noisy spring board in his bed. But loud enough to hear in the dead of the night with the bedroom door open.

He trudged up to the bedroom door and stared in, yawning. “N’sleep?”  
“Not really.”  
“’Kay.”

His body was feeling like lead and his neck couldn't really hold his head up much longer. He didn’t even have his eyes fully open. Just at half mast to ensure he didn’t fall over anything as he went to the other side of the bed and climbed in.  
“Foggy?”

He wrapped one hand over Matt’s chest and pulled the covers snug.  
“Shu’p Matt.”

He was asleep before Matt could form a coherent reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a song by 'The Used'. Somehow felt appropriate for the chapter.
> 
> Okay so there had been more hits than I'd expected, which is freaking awesome. But also a little nerve wracking?   
> Please leave like a 'me likey' or something so I can stop refreshing my stats the whole day. Which, yeah I know, insecure... but in a cute way? XD 
> 
> (Anybody else watching their favourite scenes again and again while waiting for the second season? I'm freaking out over the Punisher fyi)


	5. dirty dishes

_This would probably make Foggy happy._

 

Matt touched his cowl. The long lines ending in horns. The slits by the ears. The ‘eyes’. And the suit. The hard Kevlar parts. The softer coarse material in between. The latches and zips. The club holders.

He’d taken out the armour in preparation for his regular night patrol. There hasn’t been much of any organised crime since Fisk. Regular stuff. Sporadic and unpredictable.  
He had sat on the floor with the armour in his lap. Needing a moment before he would get his heart pumping, limbs thrumming with energy, senses scouring the radius for sounds of trouble.

But that moment didn’t pass. Now, it seemed to him if he stopped exploring the armour, if he got up, if he changed _anything_ … something would happen. Something dreadful. Even thinking about moving made his heart race, his hands shake and body break out in sweat.

 

This would probably make Foggy happy.  
This was okay. Silent. Safe. No cries for help. No smell of blood. No impact of flesh and bones. No anger that burned bright and forced itself out in violence and intimidation. He could feel none of it.  
And it was good. He deserved the peace, some quiet. He deserved not to get beaten and bloodied every night. To carry the sins and judgement of the city. He had earned a night away from the pain and horror and guilt. 

He needed just this one night. Just one moment.  
So he stayed there. Unable to move or think. Even when the cold made his body tremble and stole all feeling from his toes.  
He stayed. 

 

_Foggy. Foggy. Foggy._

His drooping head jerked back. His hands moved to a defensive pose as his heart hammered away, breathing harsh.

_Foggy. Foggy. Foggy._

His phone. He swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. He tried to move his legs and gasped at the pain. Everything was cramped and cold. His hands stiff and ungainly over the armour half on his lap and half on the floor.

He had sat there all night. Well, okay…okay not going there.

He banished the thought before it could send him into another panic attack. He got to his knees, groaning. Managed to get one leg underneath himself for a second before he collapsing to the floor with a cry. His hands couldn’t hold him either and he lay on the floor gasping and whimpering.

He carefully stretched his limbs out and lay there for a few minutes, letting his circulation restore itself. His calves and shins felt on fire. He tried not to think as he made a second more successful attempt to get up and walk.

The phone announced the time to be 8am. Jesus. Right. He took a calming breath and called Foggy back.

“Matt.” The voice was hoarse. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply, suddenly concerned.

“Nothing. By which I mean I’m sorta dying with a cold from hell.” Foggy groaned.

“Oh, do you need to see the doctor? You shouldn’t come to office today.”

“I’m okay here. Just need to sleep it off or something.”

“Probably for the best. Let me know if you need something. I’ll swing by after work.”

“Okay yeah. Alright I’m gonna go die some more. Bye Matt”

“Take care Foggy.”

 

 

Matt reached office late. He’d had to go put in an hour of boxing to shake off a bit of the lethargy that seemed to pull his body down to earth. The pain and endorphins helping to keep his mind focussed on the world around him.

It was hard. To trudge up the stairs. Talk to Karen. Accept the revolting coffee from Karen with a gracious smile. To read the tomes of procedure books. To understand the words. His fingers felt like they didn’t belong to him. His throat and tongue seemed reluctant to voice him. His brain stuttered and failed him even when he did try to talk.  
His body felt alien. He couldn’t remember what clothes he’d put on and he couldn’t tell by feeling it. The walls of his office seemed to close in on him. And more so whenever Karen was around.

By the time lunch time rolled around, he was frustrated beyond belief. Karen sat quietly across him as they munched their food. Matt was shovelling it in. Every bit feeling like a cold stone settling at the bottom of his stomach.

“Um here Matt…I’ll just-” Suddenly Karen was leaning over, patting the table in front of Matt. 

He’d dropped sauce all over it. He took the bunch of tissues from Karen and started to wipe, mouth tight with embarrassment.

“There’s a little on your shirt. More right. Yeah.”  
He could hear Karen’s heart rate galloping now. She was fidgeting with her hands. He was scaring her. He always ate meticulously. This had to be really strange for her.

“Thanks. I… I was uh thinking. A little distracted. Sorry.”

“No big deal. But Matt… you’re not okay, are you?” 

He sighed, rubbing his forehead really hard as if it could clarify his mind.  
“No. I didn’t sleep and I’m…I’m tired.”  
That was all he meant to say but somehow a little more poured out, “So tired. All the time. I’m sick of it.” 

“Foggy’s been worried about you. I’ve been too.”

“Foggy’s been talking about me?” the flash of anger was a surprise.

“Not really. But it was pretty obvious. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He gave a humourless laugh, thinking about his fortitude the previous week to be open with Foggy and ‘talk’.  
“Not especially, no.”

“What would help?”

He really admired Karen’s determination, but not now.

“I don’t know. Sometimes meditation helps. Sometimes just eating and sleeping right.” _Sometimes beating the shit out of people. Sometimes taking a sharp razor to my skin._

“Which one are you trying?” 

Well shit, he wasn’t was he. He was too tired. It’s been too many days of the same thing. His skin felt thin and tender. His neck felt like it would pop off with all the tension.  
Everything dulled except the bad memories, his guilt and misery. The world muted and its pulse faint. The city wasn’t dying. It was dead. The devil of Hell’s Kitchen was falling.

“I’ll… I was going to visit Foggy. But I’ve got lots of work to finish before that. Excuse me.”

He fled into his office and closed the door. Certain that anymore of Karen’s well meaning questions and he’d break. He was desperate not to. He couldn’t break like this. He had a responsibility. No, a burden. That no one else could carry. 

He had a violent purpose. This torment, this…disease was his own. The city couldn’t suffer because of it. He’d have to put on the devil’s armour and put the fear of God into some poor depraved souls. 

He wasn’t going to cower. He wasn’t going to fear. Not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the imagery I get when I think of depression is dirty dishes so that's what I named the chapter *shrug*
> 
> This is a story that I've been dying to tell for years and I didn't even know it until I started writing it. It's so therapeutic. And well, of course it feels really nice to know that people are reading it and even liking it!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! You guys are brilliant :)


	6. Push comes to shove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be bodily fluids, illness and general gross stuff. you have been warned.

Foggy wasn’t sure which was worse. Sitting in the cold bathroom, uncomfortable but certain and easy access of the facilities. Or comfortable in his bed and warm, but scared of his legs giving out on the way to the bathroom. Because he’s certain his legs would accept defeat sooner than later. His stupid but normal cold had went and turned into a gross nightmare. Spewing from both ends was not funny. Not anymore.

And now his limbs were shaky and cramping with dehydration. Eyes and throat still burning up with fever. And his body just won’t quit with the vomiting and diarrhoea. The last time he’d been really sick it was viral meningitis. He’d take the pain over this undignified suffering any day.

He thought he could hear his phone ringing. He didn’t want to leave the cold shelter of the bathroom though. His stomach gave a vicious twist and he gagged a bit. Nope. Not moving. Ever.

“Foggy?”

Matt was here. Finally, thank god. Actually no… he didn’t want Matt with his sensitive nose anywhere near this mess. 

“Hold on for a sec.”

He flushed the toilet once more in a useless gesture and straightened his sweaty stinky clothes. Gross.

“Sorry dude… everything kinda stinks in here. Let’s um just…ugh.” Foggy managed to get the door open before leaning against the door jam, legs threatening to give out.

“Shit. Here.” Matt moved in, putting an arm around his waist and pulling Foggy’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on.”

“Why didn’t you call me and tell me you’re so sick. This isn’t a cold.”

“I noticed. A little late. It snuck up on me.” He sniffed, happily letting Matt carry most of him to his bed. He immediately curled up, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

His abdomen was cramping fiercely. He could imagine his intestines twisting and moving around like snakes. And he really should keep his imagination under control because that spiked his nausea.

“Matt Matt…I’m gonna-” He barely managed to push Matt away from direct splatter zone before he started heaving over the edge of the bed. Bitter and dark green. He was puking bile now. Oh my god.

Matt was half sitting on the bed beside him, one arm across his chest keeping him from face planting into his puke and the other stroking his back.

“Think I need the hospital.” He mumbled, spitting out the bitter saliva and sagging against Matt.

 

 

He was seen to fairly quick in the ER as it was mostly empty. It was a viral infection apparently. And he needed to stay a day because he was moderately dehydrated. 

They started him on IV fluids, anti-emetics and anti pyretics. Which from spending time with his grandfather when he was getting treated for prostate cancer, were fancy medical jargon for drugs for nausea and fever. He was shifted to a private room in another hour.

Matt was a steadfast presence. Asking all the questions, holding the k-basin for Foggy, dragging him to bathroom because he refused to use a bed pan ( “how would I ever look you in the eyes Matt” “Not the time for blind jokes Foggy”).

After some time his fever went down and eventually all gross fluid leakage slowed down enough for him to feel drowsy. Matt was quietly sitting by the bed, fiddling with his cane.  
He looked pale and a little tensed, a worried frown on his face. He could see how hard he was trying not to freak out. Hospitals were hard on him. Not just because of his senses but all the times he had to be there had been big tragedies. And it couldn’t have been easier dealing with memories when he was already dealing with depression.  
A warm glow filled Foggy’s heart. 

“Hey Matt.”

“Yeah? Need something?” Matt turned to him, face eager and determined.

“No. Can you sit closer?”

He dragged his chair closer and kept his arm alongside Foggy’s, not quiet touching. 

“Thank you buddy. Don’t know what I’d have done without you.” He patted Matt’s arm and left his hand there. 

Matt looked like he was about to protest and rebuff the compliment. Foggy sighed and let out an exaggerated yawn.

“Get some sleep, Foggy. I’ll be here.”

“You will?” Foggy opened his eyes, surprised.

“Yes, ofcourse. You’ve done the same for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Foggy would always lie to himself later. Thinking that ofcourse he’d expected Matt to stick around, he wasn’t a total dick. But at that moment, he had to work to keep his emotions from bleeding out.

“Okay… okay. ‘Night Matt.”

“Goodnight Foggy.”

 

 

Matt kept vigil that night. His previous night’s fear not able to cripple him in the face of overwhelming need to help his best friend. He didn’t need the armour for this one. 

He had a family. He had responsibilities. And nothing could keep him from protecting the people he cared about. And if it meant fetching water and wiping vomit, that’s what he would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than a 1000 hits. What is this shit! I'm incoherent with all the kudos and comments. Thank you everyone!! <3
> 
> This chapter had to be short, sorry. But I feel like it's a very important one. I'll let you guys decide why.
> 
> There should be 2more chapters. Not more than 3.  
> Please please do leave comments. It not only to encourage me to write, but also helps me to understand what works/ doesn't work. Concrit rocks!


	7. Paper thin walls

Foggy had to stay another two days at the hospital. Hydrated and nourished, he felt better than he had in ages. Yeah, he still felt weak and things seemed to tire him too easily. But he could feel his tolerance improve bit by bit. 

And he felt even more energised because Karen and Matt were being two ridiculous dweebs. They’d both come to fetch him from the hospital which seemed a bit of a overkill since it was only a two day non-event. But whatever, they seemed to take great relish in being over the top, bringing in balloons and flowers for him. 

They’d been extremely good natured and patient as he delayed the discharge a bit by flirting with his nurse. The nurse had kept a stern face throughout until he accompanied them to the hospital entrance. He’d leaned down slowly towards a suddenly serious Foggy, booped his nose and smiled before taking off. Matt and Karen had to lean onto each other in hysterical laughter once Karen hiccupped through describing the scene to him.

Foggy did his part by acting offended as they got back to his apartment. Where they had put some more balloons and flower. _Absolutely,_ ridiculous. These two. He may or may not have cried a few sentimental tears as they went on to behaving silly and joking around.

An hour or so later, Karen kissed an exhausted but grinning Foggy goodbye and left for home. The bosses had declared it a holiday after all. Matt went puttering about, keeping the remains of their mini celebration back in place, tidying up.  
Foggy sipped at his tea contently, observing the apartment in a semi-blissed daze. Apart from the extra decorations, some nerdy neat freak had scrubbed, dusted and arranged every inch of the house. He smiled and melted back into the couch. His nerdy freak.

 

 

Matt forced the dozing man from the couch into his bed. The bed with newly laundered sheets and fluffed pillows. Foggy despite his protests, immediately burrowed in and fell asleep. Matt had stood there, listening to the soft snores for a minute before leaving.

He reached his apartment and with each step everything seemed to revert back. The mirth melted away. The warmth leached out. The laughter and affection suddenly seemed like a distant memory and not of that morning.

He stood there swaying for a moment. Remembering the worry, the resolve, the camaraderie, conspiring with Karen, cleaning the stench in Foggy’s apartment, having _fun._ Everything was over. Gone.  
Then he marched into his bed and curled under the covers. All his clothes and shoes on. His phone was underneath the side he was lying on. He should take it out atleast. Or not. 

After a while, he slept.

 

 

“Matt, hey are you done? I need you to go through Shelley Bhandari’s cross examination with me once.”

“Uh…can we do that a little later? Like an hour?”  
Matt dug a thumb deep into his thigh discretely behind the cover of the desk. 

“Stuck with something? Need a hand?” Foggy frowned a little, coming in the office.

“No. it’s fine. Give me an hour.”

“No pressure, take your time.”

Matt sighed after Foggy went out. He had to clutch the Braille reader for a second to stop himself from hurling it at the wall. He’d been trying to do the briefs the whole morning. He wanted to upend the whole table actually. Just be done with it. Go home and sleep.

He’d been slow. Too slow. Sometimes pretending to read when he wasn’t. He felt so disinterested. And no matter how many times he told himself to just get down and do what needs to be done, he just couldn’t. Foggy recently back from the hospital was ending up doing more than his share of the work. He felt guilty. So guilty that he could taste it in his mouth, bitter. But neither the guilt nor his work ethic was able to make his hands move and his mind focus.

Not feeling all that good was manageable. But it was spilling into his day job way too much. The firm was already struggling to make its mark. To make ends meet. And now he was shirking his job. Putting most of the burden on Karen and Foggy. Who were being too understanding. Or perhaps too frustrated to voice it out.  
He had to slap a hand on his mouth to stop himself from screaming out of aggravation. His neck trembled with a rage he couldn’t understand. Blood pumping and pulse thundering.

He got up abruptly. Fearing he would completely lose it if he continued in the same vein. He walked out and reached the corner where they kept coffee.

“You’ve had four cups already!” Karen spoke up from her table.

“Yeah, I know.” He bit out.

“I could get you a decaf? Or a smoothie? Or a walk. Let’s take a walk.”

“It’s snowing.”

“It’s stopped. Come on we could get you a fresh cup. Actual good coffee.”

“No Karen. I have to finish the brief. Thank you”

“Okay.”  
Matt could hear the ‘your loss’ in Karen’s voice clearly. Or was it worry? It was worry.

“Okay.”  
He ducked back into this office for the remainder of the morning.

 

 

 

“Well I have a life, unlike you dorks.” Karen laughed at Foggy’s outrage at feeling abandoned, tugging on her coat and hat.  
Foggy smiling, waved her off. “Yeah, yeah just go already.”

It was 9 actually, hardly early to leave work by any standards. Karen had done more than he could ask of her. Work wasn’t over though, far from it. Matt was still hunched over at his table. Barely making any progress but torturing himself all the same.  
Foggy rolled his shoulders back and knocked lightly at Matt’s door.

“Hey. Let’s turn in for today. I’m tired. You must be too.”

Matt looked startled for a second, “I’m fine Foggy, you go ahead.”

“Mmmm no. Can we talk for a minute?”  
If it was possible, Matt looked even more tensed now.

“Sure. What about?”

Foggy dragged a chair near and sat down perpendicular to Matt.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Better.”

“It didn’t seem like it to me though. Buddy you’ve been struggling for weeks now. I can see you fighting. Everyday. You’re not fine, Matt.” Foggy softened his tone in the end.  
Matt let his hands fall limp into his lap. Quiet. Foggy couldn’t read him yet.

“Matt?”

“I don’t…” Matt turned his head away, shaking it. “I’m trying.”

“I know! Dude I know you are. You took care of me. You’re working. It’s pretty obvious you’re trying real damn hard Matt. But it shouldn’t be this difficult. It shouldn’t be this hard for you to do regular things. I can see you’re in pain, Matt…all the time. And it doesn’t have to be this hard, this painful every day.”

Matt had hunched over slightly now, head in his hands. He didn’t speak.  


Foggy angled his body closer and laid a hand between his shoulder blades. They felt awfully tense before he shook.

“I know.” Matt sniffled quietly.

Matt crying always made his heart hurt. He kept a steady firm pressure on his back as his friend broke. A quiet ruin as he sniffled and cried softly into his hands. Little gasps and shudders as he tried to breathe in between. 

Foggy witnessed the surrender and acceptance with a heavy heart. 

Some victories were just tender and painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might have written atleast 5 different versions of this. I literally lost sleep over this because it just had to ring true to me. And I'm happy with the last part, really happy. Which is weird because I'm feeling depressed now, digging through all the bad experiences and memories of breakdowns and sadness. So I might just post another chapter. It's been cathartic but also very draining.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the update. Thank you sooo much for reading! xxx


	8. taking it in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in end notes, please take a look first if you need to.

It had been a shitty day. Actually a shitty few weeks. At the beginning of his visits to the therapist, Matt hadn’t anticipated this. When he had approached a psychologist back in Columbia at Foggy’s encouragement, it had been very different. 

He had been terrified at the prospect of telling a stranger anything about how his mind ran in circles. And how with each circle he seemed to descend into some deep dark pit. 

How he shamefacedly faked sickness a couple of times to get out of classes, study groups or even time with Foggy to go hide in a bathroom stall. How studying seemed completely futile when he couldn’t envision a future beyond every approaching morning of anxiety and terror.   
Terrifying. But also so unexpectedly liberating. Letting go of his most shameful thoughts and finding acceptance. Being told it was okay and that there are better ways to deal with his weakness. 

Oh, and that it wasn’t a weakness. 

Point is, the last time it had seemed a relief almost immediately and while it took time for the depression to lessen its hold, it slowly did. And so going by his one prior experience, his expectations took a massive sucker punch to the jaw when his depression seemed to get worse after initiating therapy.

Or actually, when he thought more about it (and if depression was good for one thing, it made you think) it was his reaction to his unwell mind that seemed to get worse. It felt like there was no more resistance from his side. As if all his walls had just crumbled to dust. And the dark armies just invaded each corner and slaughtered any thought remotely pleasant. The Mount Doom of it all, if he was going to be plain about the analogy.

 

So yeah, he eventually got an appointment, saw a therapist. Got rerouted to a doctor, who reviewed his previous brain scans, did some blood results; who showed him in black and white that it was just his fucked up head and he had nothing to blame. The therapist called it ‘ruling out possible organic causes’. Therapists tended to be polite.

And then when he really thought things couldn't get worse… they did. And now 3 weeks later he’d hit rock bottom. Shaky from sleep deprivation he’d sat in front of his therapist, and cried for an hour. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why. I just can’t stop. I don’t understand why. I’m sorry._

It wasn’t cathartic. It wasn’t a relief. There was no discernible trigger. And no end in sight. An unending deluge of misery. A pervasive feeling of being unimaginably weak. Of sorrow. Of _I just can’t I can’t I can’t do this anymore._

His therapist for the first time, had looked obviously worried. 

“Matt, you need to be very honest with me right now. Are you suicidal? Or do you think you might self harm… because I’m concerned you might go further and really endanger yourself.”

She paused, giving him time to absorb her words before she continued. 

“I don’t want to hospitalise you Matt. But you are extremely distressed and you stay alone in your apartment. So tell me, are you suicidal right now?

Matt wasn’t actively thinking about offing himself, but he had been these past few weeks. And even though his current self wasn’t capable of making decisions, he could barely make himself stop crying… he knew harming himself wouldn’t be much of a stretch. He could easily envision going home and deciding that it was time. That he’d had enough. Because he had never felt this out of control. And yeah. Yeah it scared him.

“Maybe?. I- I really don’t… but maybe.” His eyes felt rubbed raw.

Zeituni leaned forward with a frown.

“Then Matt I can’t leave you on your own. I’d recommend hospital stay, not the best option for you perhaps but just until you felt more stable. I understand you have had bad experiences and it’s especially hard on your senses, am I right?”

Matt nodded.

“Do you think it would be okay if you got a friend to stay with you for a couple of days?”

 

 

Foggy had texted Karen once he’d been sure that Matt was in deep sleep. He felt a twinge of guilt because Matt usually did not discuss his mental health issues with Karen. But he had been okay with Karen knowing that he was seeing a therapist and there had been a couple of times he’d explicitly expressed that he was feeling particularly down. Honestly though, Foggy just needed Karen right now.

Karen arrived with food supplies and the file for their current case because Foggy wasn’t leaving Matt alone at all the next day. 

“Hey.”

Foggy had stood a little dumbfounded as Karen unpacked her things. “Hey.”

And before he knew it, he was being hugged tightly by Karen. It was warm, soft and nice and why wouldn’t Matt’s mind just see things as they were. 

Karen gave him a shaky smile as they sat down huddled together on the couch. He let out a couple of big cleansing breaths and rubbed at his eyes. His heart seemed to settle to normal for the first time since he got a call from Matt’s therapist because Matt had been too distraught to even talk. It had been nerve wracking. Keeping a calm façade as he talked with Matt’s therapist as Matt sat right there… right there. Not even blinking as he let his therapist talk on his behalf. 

And had agreed to every request/instruction without protest. Yes, he would tell Foggy if he felt suicidal. Yes, he wouldn’t lock himself in in the bathroom or anywhere. Yes, he would take the sedatives at night and anti depressants. Yes, he would call her the next day or let Foggy make it in front of him.

He’d looked completely broken. Eyes sunken and red. He’d let Foggy lead him home with shaking hands and hunched shoulders. Mostly holding back the tears. And Jesus, _Jesus_ … it had killed Foggy to not hug him and let out his own tears. 

Matt hadn’t uttered a word. Had never even made eye contact until Foggy had reached out and grasped his hand tightly with a sudden surge of emotion. Matt had swallowed a few times before he spoke.

“Thank you, Foggy.”

“You’ll be okay, Murdock. You hear me? Just don’t let go. Not right now. I’m here, right here and you’ll make it, I promise.”

Matt had tried to smile and cried a little more instead. And went into a deep medicated sleep soon after, Foggy’s hand still in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: For severe depression, suicidal ideation, and severe mental distress.
> 
>  
> 
> So, it's been sooo long since I updated, I apologise. But like I promised I will complete this fic. Another chapter to go up soon so keep an eye out.
> 
> I left a job that I had for 2 years. Had to move out and then move back in with my parents after living alone for almost 8 years. Went out on a trip, met old college friends and met my boyfriend after 10 months!! Long distance sucks balls, guh.
> 
> Anyway, things are a little weird as I'm once again living with my parents, don't have an income anymore and am currently applying to universities for my masters programme. Too much free time on my hands after a long time so yaaaay for fanfiction :)
> 
> Thank you everyone for showing your concern and being so encouraging. Bless this fandom <3


	9. Only time

Foggy entered the office and instantly dropped the box filled with files on the floor. Then there was a groan.

“Oh my _god_ I don’t deserve this… well actually I totally do deserve everything sugary and crumbly… ugh, can we actually afford this though?” A pause, sound of chewing. “I don’t even care. I’d gladly go broke for this and die hungry yet deeply satisfied.”

Karen snorted. “I just rolled my eyes.” Matt could hear her fond smile. “We really shouldn’t enable him.”

They both were complicit in going for lunch and ending up at a new bakery that they were all so taken with. It helped that the shop was ADA compliant and had a clean, warm space with eclectic cosy furniture. Foggy had been very vocal about his love for the place and its goods, sometimes indecently so. Karen and Matt usually managed to not let out embarrassing sounds.

 

Matt never knew he had a sweet tooth until Foggy. No joking. He didn’t know a lot of things about himself that most people probably do by the time they have finished college.

Of course they had to be organic and fresh; call him a snob and call it a day. He learned too that it was okay to indulge in silk sheets because the sandpapery feel of cotton sometimes woke him up from sleep. Foggy didn’t let his own initial insistence to ‘just buy the damn ‘counting’ sheets Murdock’ to keep him from gently ribbing him on his indulgence later.

He came to know that it was okay to drop the ball once in a while. That it was completely normal, maybe even necessary to sometimes sleep an extra hour when you’re tired. Or that he could use Foggy’s shampoo when his ran out and not pay for an entire new bottle over it.

 

Then there was the big thing. That being miserable all the time wasn’t a given and he needn’t suffer all alone. That what he had was an illness and could be treated. That it didn’t change the way Foggy looked him at all. It didn’t determine his worth.

There were new lessons to learn this time around. Hard lessons. To pull yourself out of depths that you never imagined you could even go to. That he could sometimes breathe and breathe and make it through another minute. That sometimes he was too stubborn for his own good. The anti depressants helped. Well a lot of things helped… like the therapy, letting Foggy and Karen in, letting his needs and feelings be known once in a while, and getting fresh grocery everyday so he could cook at least one full healthy meal.

 

However, he realised he had made it so much more tough for himself by not taking the meds from the time he’d been recommended to. They did mess with his senses and gave him mild problems like lethargy and drowsiness. Interrupted his sleep because his throat would get painfully dry in the middle of the night. Around day 10 or so, they leveled out. And so did his issues with sensory perception.

The hollowed out, numb feeling disappeared a couple of days later. By the end of the 2nd week, he suddenly woke up one morning and found it had actually gotten slightly easier without him noticing. There were highs and lows along the way. But his therapist had described it as a curve that had dips but was on an overall positive trend. Some days okay, some days not very. That was just life.

It wasn’t easy. While he literally physically couldn’t function normally the first 2 days after his breakdown, he had no choice the rest of the days.

He went out.

He tuned out his own thoughts and let the sirens deaden his emotions. He searched and looked. Found people to rescue and criminals to apprehend. It was strangely very similar to times when he had been… well, better. Same focus. Same pace. Same violence and anger behind every punch.

It was when he was back in his apartment that things usually would come crashing down. The adrenaline would induce a headache. The smell and feel of blood would suddenly make him feel queasy. The same hands which had been deadly in their force and precision would fumble and falter. Sometimes he would call Foggy and sit on his sofa. He would listen quietly as he rambled and then an hour or two later turn into sleepy mumbles and eventually soft snores. It helped. Settled the weird ache in his gut somehow.

Let him sleep.

 

So yeah, he liked to sometimes indulge himself and his family. And if sometimes he bought too many muffins when ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you’ got stuck in his throat… well, he was more than fine with that. Because yeah, he had a shitty childhood. Yeah, he felt the devil trying to claw its out of him every night. And yeah sometimes his mind was merciless. Implacable in its quest to grab onto bad memories, mistakes and every passing pain. But maybe he could climb out every time.

 

He’d never have to do it alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for commenting, leaving kudos and just taking time to read this baby of mine. I'm not a good writer but I enjoy fanfiction and I felt especially inspired by Daredevil, so here it is.
> 
> It has issues, I know. I have specially neglected superawesomebamf Karen. But it was mostly because I was not sure I could write her voice and do her justice. And I'm pretty sure grammatical and syntax errors abound. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who helped, especially Biohazardgirl... you were a star!


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